Back for More
by kalliopeia
Summary: Mara strikes Haven with a round of resurrections. Chaos ensues as everyone comes back- heroes, villains, and those who have a dab of both.
1. Prologue

**It's a resurrection story! I'll be posting it in chunks with a chapter of about 1000 words per resurrected character. Fair warning, this story is kind of short on overarching plot. Mostly I just want a lot of these people back. Warnings, characters, ships, spoilers, etc. will be posted per chapter. This here prologue has Mara, Nathan, Duke, Dwight, Evi, and Stan. No warnings, ships, spoilers apply. **

/

Prologue:

"I found them," Mara's voice singsongs out of the receiver. "I found my aether. And you know what? I've thought of a great game. Have fun! You have thirty seconds to prepare." And she hangs up.

Nathan groans. "Duke!" he yells while simultaneously calling Dwight. "Mara's making a Trouble!"

Duke stops what he's doing (come to think of it, Nathan has no idea what that is) and runs. "What Trouble?"

"She said it was a game. Probably means a distraction," Nathan mutters just as Dwight picks up. Nathan's just finished repeating this information when his thirty seconds run out and several cars begin honking.

"Malfunctioning car horns could be distracting," Duke says hopefully.

Nathan looks out the window, trying to see around the cars. "I think there's someone lying in the street."

Duke looks over too, and gasps. "Holy shit!" And with that, he tears out of the station.

By the time Nathan makes it out, Duke is helping the person up. She turns. It's Evi.

"She woke up," Duke's babbling. "She woke up in the spot that she died."

Evi, to her credit, is reacting to this news far better than the both of them.

"Are we having resurrections?" Nathan asks incredulously. "Again?"

Stan runs out of the station. "Wuornos, we've got a… weird phone call."

Nathan and Duke glance at each other, sigh, and run inside.


	2. Roy Crocker

**This chapter contains Roy Crocker and Stan. Minor mentions of violence. **

/

Chapter 1: Roy Crocker

He blinks up at the dim ceiling. He doesn't hurt. Bitch must have missed.

Roy Crocker springs to his feet, knife in hand, and blinks at the empty basement.

Nada.

The décor has changed, Sarah Vernon is gone, the surprise grandson and his grouchy friend are gone too, and Jesus Christ where did all this dust come from?

Roy grimaces, not sure how to handle this sudden change. He puts the knife back in his boot, looks for his gun- also gone, but by this point he's not surprised- and sets off up the stairs.

He is going to find Sarah Vernon and destroy her, no matter what it takes. He is not going to die today. He won't let Simon grow up without a father.

The door at the top of the stairs is locked, so with shaking fingers he pulls the vial of blood out of his shirt and pulls out the stopper. Roy breathes out deeply, letting a drop of blood fall from the vial and onto the banister. He plugs the vial and replaces it in his shirt. His eyes fall closed as he touches the drop, waiting for the rush…

Nothing happens except a damp feeling on his finger.

Roy looks at his finger and frowns.

This makes no sense. It's Maddox's blood, payment for Roy's work for the Guard. Maddox is definitely Troubled- Roy's seen it in action. Maddox's blood should still give Roy what he needs.

Roy groans aloud. "Duke," he mutters. If Duke had killed Maddox, taken the blood for himself before running to the hospital, then that would explain why the blood isn't working now. If the Maddox curse is dead… It's the only explanation.

Damn psychopathic grandson.

But that's not important right now. He has to find Sarah Vernon before she finds him. He tries to kick down the door, but he's too weak without the blood rush.

Roy swears under his breath and knocks loudly. "Hello? Hello, I'm stuck! I can't get out!"

"What was that?" someone says from the other side. "Hello? Is someone in there?"

"Yes! I need help!"

"This door hasn't been unlocked the entire time I've worked here," she mutters. "Hang on, someone's going to get the key."

Roy doesn't bother ask why she thinks he needs to hang on- the floor's not falling in or anything, after all- as he honestly has more important things to concern himself with.

"How did you even get in there?" she asks.

"A woman was trying to kill me," he replies, which might in all honesty might not be a direct answer to that question, but he figures it's close enough.

"Who?" the woman asks, alarmed.

"I don't know," he lies, because he can't let the police get to her first. He can't let Sarah Vernon live.

"Okay. I'm calling the cops," she says.

"No. No, don't- I can't identify her. Just let me out," Roy begs, but he can hear her talking to dispatch through the door.

Just in time, he hears the key grind into the door. He pushes it open, nearly knocking over the doctor releasing him, and sprints out. "Sorry!" he yells over his shoulder. "I've got to find her!"

He doesn't really know where to look- she was wearing a nurse's uniform, but he can't stay here, not with the cops on the way. Then again, the other man there was a policeman… No, nonsense, dying in a shootout is no better than being killed by the woman.

Roy ducks into a bathroom, scaring some male nurse with the wild look on his face. Roy acknowledges that he looks like a maniac. He figures it's fair. It's been ages since his last blood hit and it's been a hell of a day. He splashes water on his face, breathes slowly, tries to force thoughts through his syrupy mind.

Duke. Duke is his grandson, displaced from his own reality, with nowhere to go but the bar where Roy works. He can find Duke, and he can use Duke to find her.

Roy nods to himself, steps out of the bathroom, and nearly runs headfirst into a cop.

"Roy Crocker?" asks the cop kindly. "My name is Stan."

"I… yes. Listen, she's trying to kill me!"

"Sarah Vernon, you mean?" Stan asks.

Roy stops. "Yes, her. She's dangerous!"

"That she is. Listen, this is gonna be hard to understand, but the year is 2014. She succeeded; she killed you," Stan-the-cop says. "We're having a Trouble that is bringing people back from the dead. I need to take you into the police station now."

"I… what? No. You don't understand. I can't die. I can't let my son grow up without a father…" Roy says slowly, but god, it makes sense. The difference in the contents of the basement, the fact that it was locked and so very dusty…

"Look, come down to the station and we'll work it all out," Stan wheedles. "We've got… a surprising influx of dead people today."

"If I'm dead, how did you know my name?" Roy demands suddenly.

"My boss hung up the phone and said, 'That was the hospital. There's a guy locked in their basement ranting about some lady trying to kill him. I think it's Roy Crocker. Go.'"

"Your boss," Roy repeats. "The grumpy cop?"

"Well, he's not technically my boss. But… yeah."

"So I'm in his timeline. My grandson. Duke Crocker."

Stan looks surprised, but not by nearly as big of a margin as seems reasonable. "Yeah, he's around. Busy, right now. Look, I'll take you to the station and you can talk to him, all right?"

Roy huffs out a long breath, because he's still not exactly thrilled about the whole dead thing and Duke definitely played a role in it all- and don't tell him that Duke couldn't have prevented it, because Roy's been involved in plenty of murders, and he can tell. But he can't go after Sarah Vernon- whoever the hell she was, she's gone or ancient now. He can't go back to his life. The only thing he can do here is sate his curiosity about what became of his family.

"All right."


	3. Annie Wuornos

**This chapter contains Annie Wuornos, who is basically an OC, as well as Rev. Driscoll and Garland Wuornos. Some Garland Wuornos/Annie Wuornos. Some gross details of a murder. **

/

Chapter 2: Annie Wuornos

Annie Wuornos knows as soon as she comes to that she is definitely involved in some sort of Trouble, because only divine intervention could possibly save her at this point.

She coughs and sits up. The forest looks about the same as it always has. She doesn't feel weak, even though the last thing she remembers is losing blood at a frighteningly quick pace.

Annie touches her abdomen. There's a hole in her jacket &amp; shirt in the location she knows she was shot, but the skin beneath is smooth and unblemished.

Damn it, she is definitely dead.

It doesn't soothe the sting of how fucking dumb she is. The betrayal, the guilt (eleven bodies, oh god, how could she have missed this?), the anger all weigh on her, but she's dead, so what's the point of going on about it?

This is the place where she died, but not the time. The season is off, and the first body (she doesn't even know his name, the man she could have saved) is gone. Maybe this is the afterlife. She knows she fucked up large portions of her life, but she would have hoped for a better afterlife than eternal Haven.

She gets up and begins walking toward the town, lamenting her death and hoping that the blood on her boot gave Garland some solace, some proof that she tried.

Annie's interrupted from feeling sorry for herself by the sounds of someone else walking through the trees parallel to her. She stills, silently, listening. She pulls the gun out of her ankle holster (sparing barely a second to lament how quickly it had gone, how she hadn't had time to go for it) and carefully sneaks into the other person's path.

"Hello," she says loudly when she can see him.

He freezes. "Annabelle?" he says, incredulously.

"Don't call me that," Annie snaps at him. He's so familiar, but she doesn't know who he is. "My parents are morons," she adds under her breath, more out of habit than anything.

"Don't call your parents names, Annabelle."

And it clicks. "Holy shit, Rev?!" she exclaims.

Reverend Driscoll inclines his head. "Sadly, I too am among the dead now."

"Yeah, I'm all broken up. Do you know what's happening?" Annie demands.

He shakes his head slowly. "I'm afraid I do not. I was brought back once before, but this… is not that. I am corporeal, not simply a spirit. Besides which, Mr. Hopkins made the ultimate sacrifice so that his family would not be cursed."

Annie swears under her breath. "Duke Crocker?"

"Indeed."

"I knew he was gonna be a problem."

"He has been shown the path," the Rev says gravely. "It is such a shame that you were never able to see the truth."

"Well, your truth is that I should 'make the ultimate sacrifice' so that my family will be spared the terrible curse of being cold sometimes, so yeah. Not seeing it."

"And you did."

Annie swings around to stare at him. "Fuck you! I was murdered!"

"Annie?! Is that you?"

A grin blooms on her face. "It's me! Garland, over here! Uh, you should come to me. The Rev's here."

Not thirty seconds later a distinguished older Garland comes tearing through the undergrowth, picking her up and swinging her around before pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Wow, Gar. I didn't get this much emotion out of you on our wedding day."

"I lived without you for twenty-five years," he mumbles into her neck. "Missed you."

She clings to him. "Aw. I love you, you emotionally incompetent lout."

"Love you too, you irresponsible maniac."

"I'm so sorry."

"Me too." Garland clears his throat. "Don't go anywhere, you bastard. I'll shoot you if I have to."

The Rev stops in his tracks.

"I'll shoot you even if I don't have to," Annie says merrily. "I don't know if this is still relevant or anything, but it was totally on my bucket list. So, do you know what's going on?"

"Resurrection Trouble. Nathan sent me here to get you. You have to see him, Annie. He's doing this so much better than either of us."

"Never had a doubt." They finally peel apart, mostly, although Garland probably isn't going to relinquish her hand any time within the next few months.

"We should get back. Toss Driscoll in a cell, see what we can do to help," Garland says. They both ignore the Rev's persecuted sigh.

Annie nods. Garland gestures at the Rev with a gun and they all begin walking.

"So is he dead?" she asks finally, and damn it, she doesn't really like either answer.

Garland doesn't ask who she means. "He was. We'll see."

"A martyr," the Rev proclaims. "Killed by those who did not understand his mission."

"His mission was to kill people," Garland says, flatly.

"Sacrifices must be made for the greater good," the Rev says gravely.

Annie rolls her eyes and says, "You know what my Trouble is?" Was? She doesn't know what the rules are with resurrection. "When I get stressed, my body temperature drops. Electric blanket, hot chocolate. I'm not exactly a harbinger of the apocalypse here. Simon Crocker still killed me. He didn't do it to save my family or Haven."

"You saw him in the wake of another sacrifice. You never would have allowed him to continue his good work," the Rev says.

"True," Annie says. "He killed me to save himself. Oh, and my blood. My blood was a definite factor. You know he stuck his finger in the bullet wound to absorb as much as possible?"

She says this glibly, hoping to get a sign of revulsion from Driscoll, but it's Garland who shudders. Annie squeezes his hand apologetically.

"I didn't know that," Garland says quietly. "God, he was your friend. He was at our wedding."

"I was so sure it wasn't him," Annie replies. "I was so sure he wouldn't. Damn, I stopped the Guard from taking him out months ago." It takes a second to process that her timeline is way off, but she knows Garland gets it.

"We were all at fault. Any one of us could have stopped him," Garland says heavily just as they reach the squad car that Garland apparently drove out here. They push the Rev into the backseat, stop talking about the past and begin driving toward their place in the future.


	4. Simon Crocker

**Chapter contains Simon Crocker, Wade Crocker, Duke Crocker, and Jennifer Mason. Copious amounts of Simon being creepy. Minor violence.**  
/

Chapter 3: Simon Crocker

Simon Crocker comes to in midair. He lets out a rather unmanly shriek and falls into the water. He comes up, coughing and spluttering water.

Wasn't he just in a boat? Did the boat vanish? Is he drunk enough to fall out? He's a little drunk, but not nearly enough.

He doesn't see the boat, and come to think of it, he's definitely dead because he remembers having been a ghost once already. He'd haunted Duke. Full-grown, adult, dumb-facial-hair, youngest (probably) son Duke.

So yeah, he's definitely dead.

But this isn't like that- as a ghost, he hadn't been able to touch anything or be touched. He wasn't real. Right now, he's definitely real and definitely bobbing around in the ocean, which is cold and wet and generally miserable. A small sport boat- some tourist nonsense, no utility- is rushing toward him.

The man plucks him out and hands him a towel. "Damn, you all right there?"

"Cold," Simon says. He doesn't say slow or heavy or any of the other things he's starting to notice. He doesn't ask if the man is Troubled. He doesn't take the risk. "Mind spotting me a beer?"

"Nah, man. Beer makes you feel warm, but it actually makes you colder."

Which is missing the point, but Simon wants to be out of his company without being in his debt, so he shakes his head. "Uh. So, what year is it?"

The man eyes him warily. "2014."

"Wait, what?" Simon blurts without meaning to. Damn, he is drunk.

Shouldn't the Barn have already ended this?

"How long were you in the water?"

Forty seconds. Nearly thirty years. But Simon just shrugs. "Can you take me to the Cape Rouge?"

"Crocker's boat?" the man asks. He sounds resigned.

"Yes. Crocker's boat."

The man takes him there and drops him off, seeming happy to be rid of him.

Simon climbs aboard quietly. He's very hopeful that his son will be glad to see him this time- that Duke will have found his path now, will understand why his childhood had to be the way it was. But he cannot take the chance.

He walks quietly through the boat- grabbing a nice bottle of wine when he sees it and drinking several swigs.

"Dad?"

Simon turns, but it's not Duke.

His middle son Wade is standing there, holding a knife.

"Wade?" he asks confusedly, because Wade is not a son of Haven and has no reason to be here. Simon had never even considered that this was to be Wade's path.

"I'm dead," Wade says dully. "Maybe this is Hell."

Simon shakes his head emphatically and drinks again. "I would not go to Hell. I followed the path."

"Yeah, whatever," Wade says. "I'm going to Hell."

"Why?" Simon asks.

"I killed people," Wade tells him. His voice is flat, but not guilty. "Liked it."

"The Troubled? Son, that is what we do. Who we are. Taking sacrifices is how we save Haven, how we save the families," Simon says emphatically. "The blood is simply our reward. Now that I am back, we must continue."

"I don't think we can. Duke's the one who killed me," Wade says. "But you can try some of my blood if you want."

"What? No, he couldn't, not without sacrificing the blood himself…"

"He would," Wade says. "He doesn't use it much."

Simon sits down carefully. He's much drunker now.

"Does he take sacrifices?"

"Kill the Troubled? I think he has, but no. He's not like us. He doesn't want to."

So Simon failed. All the things he had tried- keeping him away from the Troubled, explaining how they were destroying Haven, having Duke tend to his injuries and explaining that it was the Troubled who'd caused them- it had all been temporary. Duke had stepped away from his path.

Simon takes several more drinks from the bottle.

But Wade had found it. Somehow, Wade had stumbled into the destiny no one had assume was his. He doesn't seem to understand the purpose, the importance of his duties, but is doing them nonetheless. Simon's chest swells. Wade had followed the path. And, of course, had been martyred for it- Reverend Driscoll had prepared Simon for the inevitability that he would become a martyr for the cause. The Troubled and their misled allies would destroy him out of ignorance, fear, and hatred.

Simon had accepted it, unsure that he could cope well without this mission anymore anyway. Wade seems to be struggling, but possibly just because it was his brother who had killed him. He would accept his fate with time.

There are footsteps and voices above deck.

"Duke, and his toy," Wade interprets. All things considered, he doesn't seem all that concerned.

Simon leaps to his feet. He's not swaying too badly, but he leaves the wine anyway. Alcohol doesn't help his stealth. He knows this boat, so he opens the hatch in the wall that leads to a relatively hard-to-find staircase to the deck. He climbs up as quietly as he can and opens the door at the top.

The girl there yelps and points a gun at him. He can't help but observe that the gun is way too big for her. If she fires, the kick will probably knock her on her ass.

"S-stop! Freeze! Or- or I'll shoot!" Her eyes are enormous and Simon is suddenly sure she's never fired a gun in her life. They're at point-blank range, but she's practically a bunny- easily startled, but generally harmless.

Simon darts toward her, intending to knock her out of the way, and she squeals and shoots him in the gut.

He falls to the ground, gasping- he's had worse, but damn, he wasn't expecting that.

"Stay down, or I'll shoot you again!" she threatens nervously, her gun hand shaking badly. Simon would find her pathetic if he weren't in so much pain. On the other hand, she's still on her feet- Simon definitely underestimated her.

"Jennifer!" Duke yells. "All right up there?"

"I just shot someone!" she yells back. "He looks mad."

Duke comes up the stairs, looking a bit disheveled. "Nice shot. Wade's cuffed downstairs. Hi, Dad. Think you can walk?"


	5. Eleanor Carr

**Chapter contains Eleanor Carr, Laverne, Dave Teagues, and Simon Crocker (still creepy). **

/  
Chapter 4: Eleanor Carr

It takes Eleanor Carr awhile to find a working phone, and by the time she manages to call Haven PD dispatch, Laverne doesn't sound terribly surprised to hear from her.

"Laverne, am I dead?" Eleanor asks. Laverne knows just about everything there is to know about the town- the only people who know more are Vince and Eleanor herself- but she's no gossip and she's no fool. The only way to get something out of her is to ask bluntly and hope for the best.

"Not at the moment," Laverne replies.

"Laverne Gaye Gibson." Sometimes that helps too.

"Keep your pants on, sugar," Laverne says, amused. "I'm sorry, hun, but yes. You were, before. We're having a round of resurrections."

"Huh. Well, this is definitely better than the last zombie outbreak," Eleanor says cheerily.

Laverne laughs, a low throaty laugh that never fails to make Eleanor feel better. "I dunno, hun. You were pretty good with that machete."

"Not as good as you were with your service weapon and the stiletto heels of destruction," Eleanor says, laughing. It's a little bittersweet- the zombie outbreak was a few weeks before Laverne was impaled in the line of duty and confined to a wheelchair and dispatch duty- but she knows Laverne likes to be reminded of her action hero days. "Can you send Julia or someone here to pick me up? No boat."

"Julia's back in Africa, hun, but Dave Teagues is on his way."

"Africa?" Eleanor asks, surprised. "How is she running the Guard from Africa?"

Laverne sighs. "My advice? Don't go there. You know how she hates destiny."

"Yes, but Vince should not be given dictatorial power over a militia. She knows that too," Eleanor says. "You know I'd love for her to be able to choose, but…"

"Vince has very little power these days, dictatorial or otherwise. And tell it to her, sugar. I have to go. Lots of dead people are back, and we don't want them all back. See you soon."

"I look forward to it," Eleanor promises, hanging up. She shakes her head, tiredly. Julia had never wanted to run the Guard, had always resented that she didn't have a choice, that she was born with the mark and never chose this. But she had come back, done some jobs. Vince had partnered her up with some big fellow who apparently had a lot of medical emergencies. Julia described him as being so competent that being near him was damaging to the self-esteem, but seemed they seemed to get along. It had been going okay. Eleanor wonders what went wrong.

Eleanor usually wonders what went wrong. Julia's bright and good-hearted and sharp as a whip and with a moral compass that bends to none. Julia's the kind of daughter anyone would be proud of, and Eleanor is. Whatever Julia thinks, she is. Pride just never seems to be enough in Haven.

Oh, yeah, it's definitely time to find Garland Wuornos and buy him coffee so they can make frustrated single-parent expressions at each other. They are way overdue- even more so now, presumably, although Eleanor has no idea how long she's been dead.

She looks out over the ocean and spots the motorboat. Dave Teagues. About damn time.

Dave picks her up, gives her a very tentative hug (he clearly hasn't forgotten that time she tried to kill him, even though it was a Trouble, goddammit) and, quite typically, refuses to tell her anything about the current goings-on of the town or the Guard except that resurrections are happening.

He walks her to the police station, which is apparently the center of operations right now.

Nathan Wuornos is clearly in charge. "Eleanor. Hi, nice to see you. Simon Crocker's in the back with a gunshot wound. Can you patch him up?"

"Sure, but I'm not being gentle about it," Eleanor says. She surveys him critically. "When's the last time you got a full night's sleep?"

He ignores her, so she sighs and trots obediently off toward the back, where Simon Crocker is moaning, shaking, and handcuffed to the radiator.

"So, I see a gunshot wound to the abdomen, a severely broken nose, and what appears to be acute alcohol withdrawal," Eleanor says cheerily. "You are having a very bad day."

"Dr. Carr," Simon grunts in her direction. "I hate you, but can you patch me up anyway?"

"It's mutual, but yes," Eleanor replies, pulling some isopropyl and gauze from the shelf. This station comes well prepared. "Your nose is set pretty sloppily. The Rev?" Gloria had done Simon's autopsy, but Eleanor had read the notes and knew that this was done pre-death.

"Duke."

"You had your ten-year-old set your broken nose? I suddenly feel like an excellent parent," Eleanor says cheerily, jamming the gauze into the wound and eliciting a loud yelp.

"Please," Simon spits. "You tried as hard to lead your child into your life of sin and depravity as I did to lead mine to the path of righteousness."

Eleanor frowns and pokes the wound again, mostly just out of spite. "The Guard is a defense group. You're a murderer."

"The Guard is a den of sinners reveling in their punishments and persecuting the righteous. We are the ones who lead the Cursed to salvation," Simon says. Eleanor does not remember when he became a more violent version of the Rev. She remembers when he was their friend.

"You're patched up. Rot in Hell, you sick bastard." She says this as kindly as she says anything, allowing another officer to uncuff him and lead him to the cells.

Eleanor doesn't know how to handle Simon's claim that they were both manipulating their children, just in different ways. Because she did try to train Julia into the Guard, she did try to push Julia toward the destiny marked on her shoulder. Even as Julia protested that her Trouble was absorption of air pollution, not Guard leadership- that in this, at least, she should have a choice- Eleanor did not allow her to. Eleanor pushed her toward the same destiny that she had, and her mother, grandmother, and every Carr firstborn woman since Founder Annalise Carr.

Other than the difference in sides, is this really any different than Simon's relentless pushing of Duke into Rev's tainted church? Is the push to embrace the Guard significantly different than the push to embrace a violent Trouble?

Eleanor turns around and sees Duke Crocker with his hand on Nathan's shoulder. They're about four inches apart, murmuring to each other, and clearly the closest they've been since the first grade.

Well, if both Eleanor and Simon tried failed to indoctrinate their children, Eleanor tells herself, at least the sum total came out on her side- even if it did cost her a daughter.


	6. Max Hansen

**This chapter contains Max Hansen, Nathan Wuornos, Annie Wuornos, and Garland Wuornos. Contains a relatively mild description of a death. It is the only chapter under 1000 words.**

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Chapter 5: Max Hansen

Max Hansen wakes up very confused. It's dark- so dark- and he can't move anything. He's surrounded by something completely inflexible, unforgiving. He suspects that he can't breathe and it's confirmed when his head starts spinning. He pushes harder against the material surrounding him. Nothing. He gets frantic as his thoughts start to blur, but accomplishes nothing. He's trapped in a prison much stronger than he is.

Max knows that he should be grateful for his Trouble, knows that anyone else would be in unimaginable pain, but he isn't. He'd always hated the idea of dying without understanding why. Being murdered, he would understand- he'd made an abundance of enemies. But this- he has no idea what's happening, or why, and maybe if he could feel the texture of whatever is suffocating him, he would.

And he's definitely dying.

His head is spinning, and without any visual input whatsoever, he's not sure how he knows that. He can't feel the ache in his lungs, but he knows it must be bad by now.

Max wasn't a man to pray. He'd worked under the Rev, sure- first as a spy in the Guard and then openly- but he'd done it for the power, the revenge. The religious aspect honestly made him roll his eyes- why bother with hellfire and brimstone when power is a much better motivator? But now he sends a frantic distress signal to whatever deity might have enough mercy to forgive even him.

He loses hope around the time he loses consciousness.

Not far away from where Max suffocates silently, his predicament is being discussed, unbeknownst to him.

"Max Hansen?" Annie Wuornos asks.

"People are coming back where they died," Nathan replies. "Max… fell into a very large crack into the ground. He died about sixty feet below Main Street. We've filled it in since then, so if he's back… he's probably not having a very good time of it."

"A large crack in the ground?" Annie repeats, amused. "Garland?"

"It wasn't on purpose," Garland grumbles.

"Don't care. High five!" Annie proclaims, raising her hand.

Garland rolls his eyes, but a smile twitches the corner of his mouth as he complies.

Nathan stares at them both in a sort of perturbed confusion before shaking his head and going back to business.

There is not a single person, out of seven and a half billion on the planet, who mourns for Max. There are less than twenty who even give him a passing thought. He is worse than hated- he is forgotten.

Max Hansen dies alone and confused, buried alive in a tomb of concrete.


	7. Garland Wuornos

**Characters: Garland Wuornos, Annie Wuornos, Nathan Wuornos, Claire Callahan, and brief Dwight Hendrickson. Mild descriptions of death by explosion. Some spoilers for seasons 4&amp;5 (Mara &amp; William)**

/  
Chapter 6: Garland Wuornos

Garland had been pretty confused when he woke up, whole but shaking, on the beach, but he'd gotten up and trudged to the police station. Nathan was directing, and entirely unsurprised to find his father in one piece. Nathan had sent him after the Rev and Annie, who had apparently died close together in a display of irony that had Garland unsure whether to chuckle or wince.

Annie is alive.

He still can't quite believe it, but here she is, cracking jokes about his age, swearing at people, and greeting everyone with enthusiasm.

Annie is alive, Nathan has apparently accepted the existence of the Troubles and about tripled in competence at handling them in the interim, the town is at least mostly in one piece, and Garland cannot remember the last time has had this good of a day.

Annie's curled into him. "Garland. Did you die, too?"

Garland sighs and grunts an affirmative. "Think I might be the only one back who wasn't a homicide, from the sound of it."

"Yeah? What happened?"

"Exploded."

"Oh, yeah?" Annie asks. This possibility has always piqued her interest as much as it's horrified her. Her Trouble also regularly risked killing her- hypothermia- but apparently didn't have as much flair as blasting outward in a shower of rubble. "How was it?"

"Fast, mostly painless. Humiliating. Nathan was there."

Annie frowns in consternation. "You exploded in front of our son?"

"You know I would have stopped it if I could have."

"Were you taking Valium? You know that helps."

Garland grimaces. "Can't do my job on that stuff; you know that. It went to shit too fast for me to get some."

"Hi; couldn't help but overhear your conversation- Valium isn't the only anxiety med out there, you know, and if you've had side effects we can experiment with other medications that could help relieve your symptoms without affecting your work performance. I don't have any cards with me, and my schedule's going to be pretty packed for the next few weeks, but we can definitely work out a time to talk about it."

The speaker is a young redhead with an eager expression who happens to be wearing pajamas decorated with robot ducks.

"Who are you?" Garland asks finally.

"Dr. Claire Callahan. Psychiatrist specializing in Haven's special cases. I'd love to keep talking, but Nathan just asked me to evaluate a trio of murderous Crockers. Until next time!" And she swooshes off.

"Haven probably needs good shrinks," Annie says. "And I assume she wears grown-up clothes to her sessions."

"Eh, I don't need a shrink."

"You got so stressed out that you exploded, Gar."

"I recovered."

Annie grins. "True. You've got a smokin' hot thirty-one year old wife. Who could be stressed?"

Garland rolls his eyes and elbows her lightly.

"So, Nathan's a cop. How'd that happen?"

"Dunno. Didn't even know he was doing it until he was already out of the Academy and applied for the job," Garland admits.

"Ah. So I take it single parenting did not exactly go well."

Garland lets out a long groan. "Pretty much how we joked about."

"Right. I always was the only one in the family who regularly speaks in full sentences. I imagine it was pretty quiet."

"Yup, and when it wasn't, we were fighting," Garland says, remembering a long string of regrets- not knowing how they happened even still, not knowing how he could have been better.

"Puberty must have been awesome."

"Don't even ask."

Annie chuckles. "Yeah, but look at him now. Garland, our son is a badass."

"That he is." Garland takes a long breath. "Seen the calendars? Time's wrong."

She sighs. "I noticed. The Barn should have passed already… Someone killed Joel."

"I think it was Nathan," Garland says bluntly.

Annie shrugs. "We agreed that we'd do it ourselves if she wanted us to. Only reason we didn't last time is that we wanted Nathan to have the rest of his childhood back."

"He's in love with her. Audrey, this time."

"Aww. Poor kid. So, he kills Joel, destroys the Barn and…"

Garland puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles, getting Nathan's attention, and waves him over.

"So, you shot Agent Howard and destroyed the Barn. Then what happened?" Garland asks.

Nathan stares at him. "Who told you that?"

"No one," Annie responds cheerily. "We extrapolated. So, out with it. Joel told us that bad things will happen if the soft spot is torn open or some such nonsense."

"Uh, yeah. This guy William came over and brought out the person Audrey used to be, and she's…"

"Yeah, Mara's evil. He mentioned that," Garland says, grimacing.

Nathan stares at them. "Who is Joel, why does he know Mara's name, why did he tell you, and what else do you know?"

"Joel is Agent Howard's original name, the keeper of the Barn. I don't know how he knows. Garland is exceptional at interrogation and I am excellent at threatening. We know how to make a new Barn, if you're interested," Annie says, counting each answer on a finger.

"When we figured out that Lucy wasn't the real Lucy Ripley, we realized that he had to be in on it, invited him out to dinner, and questioned him about it," Garland grunts. "I was gonna tell Audrey. That and everything else. Just as soon as she figured out she wasn't actually Agent Audrey Parker. Never got the chance."

"That's why Agent Howard talked to you so much when he was here," Nathan mutters under his breath.

"Wuornos!" Dwight yells and- is Dwight wearing a cop's uniform? When did Dwight retire from Cleaner duty and become a cop?

Before Garland can ask, Nathan tells them both, "Have questions. I'll talk to you later," and strides purposefully toward Dwight.

"If Mara hurts him, I'll kill her," Annie says calmly. "Lucy or no Lucy."

"Gonna kill her anyway?" Garland asks. To an outsider, it wouldn't sound tentative- from Garland, very little would- but he knows Annie picks up on it.

Annie purses her lips. "Not sure. I hate making the same mistake twice, and allowing a close-friend-turned-evil to wreak havoc on Haven and on us… It's too familiar. And Nathan's much too close."

Garland takes in a shaky breath and squeezes her hand. "I know."

"But if Nathan loves Audrey… I don't know if I can handle him hating me."

"That is sort of my wheelhouse," Garland admits.

Annie snorts and rests her head against his shoulder. "I'm not sure, Gar. But one thing's for sure. If Lucy's influencing Mara… Lucy knows I'd at least consider it."

"You think Lucy would want…?"

"I don't know, Garland."

Garland finds he doesn't know either, and suddenly his day isn't so bright anymore.


	8. Evi Ryan Evi Crocker

**Characters: Evi Ryan, Jennifer Mason, Duke Crocker, and Jordan McKee. Contains some Jordan-related spoilers from mid-season 4. Some Evi/Jordan, which is not a ship I knew I needed in my life until this story, but now I kind of can't think about anything else. **

/  
Chapter 7: Evi Ryan [Evi Crocker]

The first thing she does- after planting her ass on a desk and uselessly watching the chaos for half an hour- is corner Duke's new girl. It's not jealousy, of course. They didn't do monogamy even when they were married. She's just curious.

"So. You're Duke's girlfriend." Evi says. The girl- Jennifer- looks up, looking terrified, and nods. "Hi. I'm his wife. Oh, don't worry about it, I'm not mad."

"Duke has a wife?" Jennifer asks incredulously.

"He didn't say? Well, I am dead. And even before that…" Evi waves a hand. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. I'm irrelevant. I just have questions. See, you're not what I would have expected. You're… adorable."

"Right. I'm not the kind of girl you would imagine Duke sleeping with," Jennifer says, a bit crossly, and would you look at that- the stick has a spine.

"No. No, that's not it at all. You're just not the kind of girl I would imagine him calling back afterward," Evi explains.

Jennifer frowns. "Maybe he wouldn't have. You fell in love with Duke the crook. But he's not that anymore. Now he's Duke the hero. And Duke the hero called me back."

"You've got two parts of that wrong, sweetheart. Firstly, he's always had this obnoxious hero complex. Annoyed the hell out of him, and me too, but it didn't spontaneously generate in the presence of Haven. And secondly, I never fell in love with Duke of any variety."

Jennifer blinks her enormous eyes. "You married a man you didn't love?"

"Sure. It wasn't love, but it was fun," Evi says. "I'm not like Duke, or blonde cop, or you- I'm guessing. I'm not any kind of hero. I've never expected a fairytale ending."

"Anyone can be a hero," Jennifer says earnestly. "I think I'm a hero and I still sleep with a nightlight. You just have to try."

"I tried," Evi says flatly. "I tried to be selfless, help Duke. Maybe even help Haven. I'm pretty sure it was the worst thing I've ever done. I'm not built for it."

Jennifer's brow furrows- maybe she believes in the innate goodness of all people and Evi is a new conundrum or maybe she's just never considered the possibility that she's suited to heroism in a way not everyone is.

"I'm gonna go now," Jennifer says nervously.

Evi's surprised she held out this long. "Bye."

Next she flags down Duke. "So I met your girlfriend. She's precious."

He gives her an exasperated look. "Tell me you didn't scare her too badly."

Evi's pulling a 'who, me?' face when she notices someone over Duke's shoulder. "Who is _that_?" she asks.

Duke turns. "Sasquatch? He was here when you were. He just had more ridiculous hair then."

"Not him. The bombshell."

Duke starts in surprise, even though that woman is obviously Evi's type. "Her name's Jordan," he finally gets out. "_Careful_, Ev."

Duke might not know it, but nothing gets her more interested than being warned away. Duke leaves, off to do something Evi's not interested in, and she approaches the woman. _Jordan._

"Hey," Evi says, smirking at her. "You… are not like the other small-town flannel-clad monosyllabic weirdos who populate this town. I'm Evi Ryan."

"Jordan McKee," she returns. She smiles, and it softens her previous pissed-off look. "So, are you back from the dead too?"

"Yep," Evi says grimly. "Kind of surreal, but it's hard to bitch when it's my own damn fault."

"It's not stopping me," Jordan mutters.

"Oh, you too? Who offed you? If you don't mind me asking."

Jordan heaves a sigh, one hand going to the torn clothes on her abdomen. "Wade Crocker."

That was about the last thing Evi was expecting. "No shit! Wade?"

"You know him?" Jordan asks.

Evi nods. "I used to be married to Duke." She watches Jordan's eyebrows slowly creep up her face. "Look, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Wade, though… He was Duke's favorite relative. Only one who didn't seem like a terrible person, believe it or not. He and I, though… At first I thought it was just me he didn't like. He had plenty of reason…"

"Then what?" Jordan asks.

"Met an ex-girlfriend of his. He didn't do anything to her, either, but apparently she got the impression that he's not fond of women," Evi explains. "After that, I started seeing it. I never told Duke- no proof, and I figured he deserved to like at least one family member."

Jordan sighs and pulls herself onto the nearest desk. Evi sits beside her.

"I was trying to manipulate him," Jordan says slowly. "And he knew it, he must have. I was the one who activated his Trouble." Evi frowns, remembering that the Rev had said that Crockers were the anti-Trouble, but doesn't say anything. "Told him he could save Haven. I was trying to do the right thing, but I was wrong, and even if I wasn't, Wade… he was worse than me, out-manipulated me. And when he ran out of use for me… Do you find this funny?"

"No!" Evi insists, forcing herself to stop giggling. "I find this bizarre! Let me get this straight. You were trying to do the right thing by manipulating a guy you thought was a good guy, but the guy you were manipulating was a bad guy and was actually manipulating you. And even though you were trying to do the right thing, you went about it in such a screwy way that it turns out what you were doing was terrible the whole time, and then the cross-manipulation fellow murdered you. Have I got all of that?"

"Yes," Jordan grits out, glaring at her. "What of it?"

"How certain are you that you and I are actually different people?" Evi asks.

Jordan blinks. "Sorry. What?"

"Mine was Reverend Driscoll. Apparently everyone but me knew that he's actually a scumbag. He told me I could help Duke and Haven by assisting him. I tried to use him, but he used me, then killed me," Evi explains.

"You thought that you were doing the right thing by helping out the Rev," Jordan repeats incredulously.

"Look, no one told me that he's a psychopath," Evi says. "I didn't know. And yes, I know I fucked up. The worst thing I ever did was the one time I was trying to be a hero."

Jordan lets out a long, heavy breath. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds familiar."

Evi reaches out and touches Jordan's bare forearm. Jordan flinches away, then quickly changes her mind and grabs Evi's hand.

Evi smiles at her and watches Jordan tentatively smile back.


	9. Reverend Edmund Driscoll

**Characters: Rev Driscoll, Simon Crocker, Wade Crocker, Annie Wuornos, Duke Crocker, Nathan Wuornos. Some casual discussion of murder. **  
/

Chapter 8: Reverend Edmund Driscoll

Simon was dropped off in the cage beside his some time ago, brooding, with one hand on the bloody spot on his abdomen and the other on his nose. He'd been sharing a cell with his father and son, but the woman in the odd pajamas had come through to interview them, and Roy had volunteered to go first. Wade is sitting on the top bunk, staring dully at the wall.

"Where did Duke go wrong?" Simon wonders aloud.

"What, because he doesn't kill people?" Wade asks.

Simon sighs. "I understand that our path is a hard one to take, a frightening one, and one that can be hard to accept. But I thought I was showing him the way."

"I dunno if you noticed or anything, but there are three generations of us here, we're all dead, and we're within five years of the same age. Maybe he just wants to live," Wade suggests.

Simon sighs. "There are those who will never understand. Those who will stop our path. People… like Duke."

"Are you sure that your son has fallen so far as to prevent the taking of sacrifices? Perhaps he is simply abstaining for his own safety," the Rev suggests.

Wade lets out a laugh completely devoid of humor. He holds out his shirt, showing the slice in it. "Pretty sure."

The Rev's eyes widen. "Duke is the one who martyred you."

Wade nods slowly. "Yeah."

"Why?" the Rev asked.

Wade shrugged. "I threatened to kill a few people he likes. And I actually did kill a few other people. He may have liked one of them. I don't really know. It doesn't matter; I made him do it. I didn't want to go to jail, or the Guard."

"Of course, of course. Death is better than many fates," the Rev reassures him. "How did Duke fall so far from his path?"

"I did everything I could to prepare him," Simon says miserably. "I don't know how I could have done more."

"There are always sinners who cannot take up the mantel," the Rev tells him. "Righteousness is not always enough. Even the natural reward given to you by the blood of the forsaken is not always enough."

"Yeah, I wouldn't bet on that," Wade adds. "He's probably using the blood."

Simon looks up in sudden, slightly pathetic hope. "What makes you say that?"

"His best friend is completely numb. Can't tell when he's injured. Basically a free tap. Who the hell wouldn't use it?" Wade explains, smirking.

Simon's hopeful face turns to helpless outrage. "What do you mean, 'best friend'?"

"They're so chummy people keep mistaking them for a couple. Why?"

"Wh- but- but I… I _stopped_ that!" Simon splutters, and the Rev understands. Much prayer, supplication, and discussion went into guiding the children away from unacceptable influences. Duke and Nathan were a focus from the beginning. It wasn't exactly difficult- seven-year-olds never really are- but the matter nonetheless was given focus and the situation was rectified firmly, with the Rev himself dictating every step.

If that hadn't stuck… the Rev has long been concerned that his daughter Hannah is a sympathizer, especially after her choices with that awful Cursed boy Bobby, but now he has to wonder how far it's gone. Especially because his church is, from what he's heard, essentially inert…

"You obviously didn't. Duke didn't threaten to kill me until I threatened Nathan," Wade tells him.

"How the hell is that even possible? After everything…" Simon trails off. He's sweating horribly, and the Rev moves to get farther away from him, pitying Simon. Alcohol withdrawal, on top of everything else.

"You were doing it on purpose."

They look up, and Annie Wuornos is leaning against the wall by the lockers, glaring at them.

"How long have you been there?" Simon asks.

"Long enough. So, the both of you conspired to make my seven-year-old child's life miserable."

The Rev sighs. "You're missing the point, Annie."

"Oh, I'm not. You hate the Troubled. You were afraid because Duke didn't. So you encouraged him to hurt my son. Was it just encouragement, Simon? Or did you have to beat him?"

"No," Simon snaps. "I just made him understand. That the Cursed are why this town is so forsaken, the cause of my injuries. That he cannot be a Crocker and be associating with them."

"I would never encourage a grown man to strike a child," the Rev protests, a little untruthfully, but Annie will never understand.

"Right. You're a proponent of emotional abuse instead, because you're a classy bitch," Annie says sarcastically. "Hey! Duke!"

Duke comes trotting in obediently. "Is everything okay?"

"No. Just wanted to let you know that I appreciate you not being terrible," Annie tells him. "You don't remind me of your father. You don't even remind me of you. And that's great."

"Oh. Yeah, no problem."

"How could you?" Simon asks sadly. "How could you step so far from the path?"

"Well, let's see. Nathan's my friend. Audrey's my friend. I'm not an exterminator, I'm just Troubled. And murdering people does not sound like my idea of a good time," Duke states. "Does that clear it up, Dad?"

"I understand that it can be hard when you harbor affection for the forsaken," Simon says sadly. "I do. Annie and I were friends before the onset of Judgment, before I understood my role. But she was Cursed, she didn't understand the path. She tried to save me, in her own way, but when she came to understand what I was doing…"

Annie huffs. "I'd shoot you if I knew it'd work and we weren't in a police station right now." With that, she stalks away.

"You were friends with Nathan's mother," Duke says slowly, "and you murdered her anyway."

"I did what had to be done."

"Right. Nate, c'mere!" Duke yells. Simon wonders when Duke started calling him by that nickname again.

Nathan walks in. "They causing problems? We could gag them."

"I'm not opposed, but that's not the point. Remember when my Trouble activated and you acted like a paranoid douche for the next few weeks?"

Nathan frowns, looks over at Simon, looks back at Duke, and sighs. "I remember."

"You're forgiven."

"You're an idiot," Wade says. It's unclear which of them he's talking to. "The prey should always fear the predator."

"He is not a predator," Nathan says, sounding both certain and like he's had this conversation about twelve times today. "He is my friend."

The Rev looks at Duke. "You claimed that you were not going to pick a side."

Duke looks thoughtful. "True. It was pretty dumb of us both to think I wasn't gonna end up right here."

The Rev feels his heart sink, knowing he has long since lost.


	10. Claire Callahan

**Claire Callahan, Simon Crocker, Wade Crocker. Some Wade-related mid-S4 spoilers. Plenty of creepy conversations with serial killers. **  
/

Chapter 9: Claire Callahan

Claire Callahan had woken up in her apartment, scaring the crap out of the new residents, and scurried out. Walking to the police station without shoes and in her pajamas had not been awesome, and she'd quite predictably stepped into mayhem when she arrived.

Nathan had given her a hug, much to her startled amusement. She'd asked who most needed emergency therapy as a result of having recently been dead. He pointed out that this included her and she's allowed to take a break if she needs, because Nathan doesn't know her well enough to realize that she's most alive when she's picking up someone else. She'd scoffed, and he'd directed her to a trio of formerly dead Crockers in a cell.

Claire spent a couple hours with Roy, who is either extremely unlucky and easily manipulated or a very good liar- she's still not sure which. Eventually she gives up and makes a mental note to have a trained interrogator go at him later.

Stan leads Roy back to the cell, much to his disappointment- "Please don't put me back in there with those freaks; I can't believe I'm related to them"- and after pulling Simon out, Claire decides he definitely has a point.

Simon's rear is barely in the seat before he starts spouting extremely creepy religious rhetoric about Curses and retribution and salvation through sacrifice. Claire's not Troubled, she knows that she's not part of his victimology, but she still finds herself scooting her chair back a few inches.

"Okay, Simon, can it with the God stuff and tell me about how you Trouble feels," she tries, but his response consists of outrage that she doesn't want to hear the God stuff and insistence that he's not Troubled.

Claire lets him ramble for a while longer, wishing there was some way to do this when he wasn't busy going through serious alcohol withdrawal.

"Simon," she asks gently when he pauses for breath. "Do you feel guilty about killing people? I'm not asking if it was the right thing to do- I'm asking how you feel."

It's the right question, and as is so often in therapy, she knows it's the right question from the sudden alarm in his eyes.

"I stumble at times, but my pastor and my church support me in doing what I must do," he says at last.

"And the alcohol."

"The alcohol is a tool," Simon says. "A tool to assist me in moments of weakness." He goes weak and desperate looking at the mention of booze. He apparently has moments of weakness frequently.

"Right. So killing is difficult for you, even though you feel like it's your destiny."

"There are many struggles on the path to redemption."

Claire nods. "We all have our difficulties. But doesn't the Bible say that murder is wrong? Do you struggle with that?"

"No," Simon says. "Reverend Driscoll has helped me see that I am unique, set apart from the masses of the doomed. Sometimes it is necessary to take sacrifices- like God destroying Sodom and Gomorrah. I do not struggle with the Bible."

"But you do struggle with killing. Where does that come from?" Claire asks.

Simon suddenly looks distant. "Their fear. Making people so afraid is… not natural to me."

"You empathize with your victims," Claire murmurs. "Simon, I only have one more question. Duke killed Wade, which ended your ability to destroy Troubles. If we let you go, will you continue to kill the Troubled?"

He looks up, sharply, his eyes clearer than she has seen them yet. "No," he says quickly, breathily. "No, I won't."

For a former crook, he is an exceptionally bad liar.

She signals to Stan, who leads Simon out. Claire lets out a sigh, rubbing the back of her neck absentmindedly. It doesn't hurt. It sort of seems like it should.

She doesn't know the name of who killed her. She should have asked Nathan, maybe, but she's not sure that she's ready to deal with it yet. The only name she knows is the Bolt Gun Killer. It's accurate. A bolt gun is an inhuman way to die.

Stan comes back, leading the third Crocker. His eyes are dull, and especially compared to the earnest pleading of Roy and the twitchy creepiness of Simon, this one really does look like a walking corpse.

"This is Wade. Wade, this is Dr. Callahan, and she's going to be interviewing you."

Wade checks her out, and though everyone's doing that today, this is clearly about her body and not the robot-duck-themed pajamas covering it. "Dr. Callahan," he repeats slowly.

Okay, she is officially way creeped out. "Hello, Wade. I'm here to evaluate you. Is that okay with you?"

Wade sits, shrugs. "Not much point. They're not going to let me live."

"Why do you say that?"

"They're good guys. I kill people. Conflict of interest," Wade says. "Besides which, my _brother_ already killed me. Can't imagine how many of the others are lining up to take a crack."

"Do you think you deserve to live?"

"Deserve," Wade repeats flatly. He shakes his head. "No one deserves a fucking thing. We take what we can get."

"So no one deserves to live? Not you, or your victims?" Claire confirms.

Wade frowns. "Like I said. 'Deserve' is something lucky assholes thought up."

"Do you think it was wrong to kill people?"

"'Deserve' was thought up by lucky people. 'Wrong' was thought up by _stupid_ people." Wade rolls his eyes, apparently at the whole concept of morality.

Claire steels herself. She's not used to this. She's used to people she can help. "So if it's not wrong to kill people, does that mean it wasn't wrong for Duke to kill you?"

"I made him do it," Wade tells her disinterestedly. "Went after his pet girl. He was gonna take me in, give me to the cops. Threatened the cop. He told me he'd kill me. I rushed him…" Wade concludes the story by drawing his finger across his throat.

"So you're not angry at Duke," Claire sums up.

"Nah. Not at him."

Claire hones in. "Who are you angry at?"

Wade shuts down. "Like I'm gonna tell _you_."

There's something bitter in it, something personal. "Because I'm a therapist?" Claire asks. Nothing. "Because I'm a woman." This gets a response- he shifts backward in his seat and sneers at her. "Your wife?" There's a tan line from a ring on his finger.

"She's screwing the maintenance man," Wade bites out.

"I see. When did you find this out?"

"A few weeks before I killed Jordan. Is that what you want to know?" Wade asks sarcastically.

Claire blinks, a shudder running up her spine- not at the timeline, but at the revelation that Wade killed Jordan. God, that woman needs so much therapy.

"Is that why you killed attractive women in their thirties?" Claire asks, proud of the steadiness in her voice.

"You're the shrink."

"Okay, Wade, one more question. Because Duke's the one who killed you, you're not going to get a rush from Troubled blood anymore. If we let you go, are you going to keep killing?"

Wade sneers at her. "Would I admit it if I was?"

Claire waves Stan over and darts out of the room, well and truly done with Wade and more than ready to talk to someone she can help.


	11. Arla Cogan

**Note: this chapter is has a fair amount of body horror. It's kind of nasty, for those of you who are squeamish about that sort of thing. None of the plot here will be relevant later. Arla Cogan, Dwight, Claire, Garland, Annie, Nathan, William.**

/  
Chapter 10: Arla Cogan

Arla Cogan wakes up… somewhere.

It's not good, wherever it is. She's in some kind of void, with light flickering past, and she tries to reach for something she understands- but she can't.

Her skin isn't working right. It's stiff, dry, and flaking apart at the seams. Her Trouble isn't working here.

Arla tries to call out for James, but he isn't anywhere near here and though the selfish part of her wishes she wasn't so desperately alone, she's glad. She doesn't know where he is, doesn't know if he's safe, but she's glad he's not here.

She doesn't know where here is, but she would absolutely believe that it's hell, and she knows she deserves it.

Her nose flakes off and drifts away.

Arla thinks she screams, but she's not sure- she can't hear anything but the rushing sounds, and though her throat hurts, everything hurts. She can see droplets of blood drift away from her broken face. Not as much as she would expect- it's never messy when she switches skin, but her Trouble doesn't work here.

God, she wishes she would just die already.

An unmeasurable distance away, her person and predicament are being casually discussed.

"Oh, by the way, did you ever catch the Bolt Gun Killer?" Claire asks casually, but she knows Dwight sees right through it.

"Yep. Arla Cogan."

Claire sputters. "The Bolt Gun Killer is a woman? That's… really unusual presentation for a female serial killer."

Dwight grins. "Yes. Unusual. It's good to have you back."

A room away and about half an hour later (not that it means anything to Arla, here), Duke Crocker mentions her as well with the glib comment, "Hey, so you're basically a matched set."

The trio of Wuornoses look over. "What do you mean?" Nathan asks warily.

"You have tasted death and come out victorious," Duke points out.

"Oh yes, that," Nathan says mildly.

"When were you dead?" Garland asks.

"Uh, a while ago. Only briefly," Nathan says.

Annie nods, eyebrows raised. "And who killed you?"

Nathan grimaces. "Uh, Arla Cogan, wearing the skin of one of my coworkers."

Garland nods. "Oh, yeah. That." Annie looks baffled, but doesn't say a word. Garland continues, "So is she dead?"

"Yeah, but she died in the Barn, and it's… destroyed," Nathan breaks eye contact before adding this part. "Vince and some Guard cronies are staking out Kick 'Em Jenny Neck, but they haven't found anything. I don't know if she can come back, but if she is… Her day isn't going well."

Arla has no idea he's saying this, but if she did, she would know that he's right. The seam of her shoulder has split and dried skin is curling down her arm. She knows she's going to die here, but she doesn't know how. The skin on her cheekbone peels off completely and is quickly out of reach. She's not bleeding much, and though she's in pain, she knows that this isn't killing her.

Her scalp peels off a little more, curling back, and her desperate moans are lost in the void.

Arla's gonna die ugly, and that thought eats at her more than she expects.

"You seem to be having a problem."

She hears the words, and at first she thinks she's hallucinating, but then she looks over and sees a man observing her. The rush in her ears dies down suddenly, although the chaos is retreating so she can have one last conversation.

"Wow! Your face!" the man exclaims enthusiastically.

"Help me," she moans back.

"How did you get here?"

"I don't know. I don't know where here is," Arla groans. "Help me, I'm dying."

The man nods. "Yes, I can see that. What's the last thing you remember?"

Arla tries to focus on it, but it's hard to concentrate on anything while one ear is slowly peeling off her head.

"He rejected me," she chokes out, the memory hitting her like a brick. "And she stabbed me."

"Who?" the man asks, but he doesn't sound like he really cares. He approaches her- somehow able to move in this place- and runs a curious finger along the seam of her collarbone.

Arla winces, but he's her only chance. "My husband, James. I was just trying to be pretty for him... But his bitch mother stabbed me. Lucy Ripley, Audrey Parker, whoever the fuck."

At these names, the man freezes, then grins. "You're from Haven."

Colorado, actually, but she doesn't bother say that. "I'll tell you everything you want to know if you get me out of here."

"Right, right, yes," the man says gallantly, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in some random direction. "The Void is difficult to navigate if you're not used to it." He expertly reaches out, a spot glowing blue to his touch. He opens it, pushes her inside, and follows.

They land in what appears to be someone's living room. Arla sighs gratefully as the remainder of her skin knits back together. Most of the left half of her face is gone permanently- she'll have to find someone to replace it.

"Now, we don't have a lot of time," the man tells her genially. "Who are you?"

"My name is Arla Cogan," she says. "Who are you?"

"William," he replies. "When were you in Haven?"

"October 2012," she tells him.

William sighs. "Shame. I've been there more recently than that. I'm afraid you seem to be dead. Not at the moment, of course. In Haven, death is not always permanent."

"Believe me, I'm familiar," Arla grumbles. "How did I end up here? I died in the Barn."

"I assumed. The Barn has been destroyed. I picked you up around the spot it finally gave out. Fascinating, though- Troubles do not work in the Barn, nor do they work in the Void. Presumably a Trouble brought you back, but it's very interesting that it attached to you under such conditions," William muses, mostly to himself. "I suppose just because the bearer is still on Earth."

"Still on Earth?" Arla repeats, startled. "Where are we?"

"Very, very far away from there," William tells her. "But I am trying to get back."


	12. Jordan McKee

**Evi/Jordan, which has not yet finished invading my mind. Evi, Jordan, Claire. Contains mentions of violence and allusions to a past assault. **

/  
Chapter 11: Jordan McKee

Jordan McKee is not losing it, and she's as surprised as anyone.

She hasn't smacked anyone, she hasn't demanded a weapon, and even when the friendly cop led Wade past her, she hadn't done anything more than glared.

When he'd led Wade back, Jordan had been too caught up laughing her ass off at Evi's story about Duke winning a drag contest to notice.

Evi is like Jordan, and she's so open about it that Jordan finds herself revealing things she wouldn't tell her closest friends ('closest' is, in this case, not saying a whole lot). And Evi's not just a stranger, she's a stranger who was married to Duke Crocker.

"So, are you from Haven?"

"I was born here. I grew up in southern Maine," Jordan tells her. "Moved back a few years ago."

Evi raises an eyebrow. "You one of _the_ Haven folks?"

Here, Jordan tenses. Evi did work with the Rev, and all. "Yes," she says, stiffly, even though technically she's not anymore.

"That sucks," Evi says. "Tell me it's not murderous trees. I've so had enough of murderous trees."

This startles a laugh out of Jordan. "You're safe," Jordan assures her. Evi's hand is still resting casually in hers. Evi has no idea what this is, what this means.

It had been Dwight's idea, when he picked her up, to test whether her Trouble was cured. She hadn't even been sure whether she even wanted to be cured- whether her skin was more a protection than a curse. It hadn't saved her from Wade, but she's not sure she wants to be so defenseless.

But when she'd touched Dwight's hand, she hadn't wanted to hurt him. Lo and behold, she hadn't. Dwight was fine. Evi is fine. And Jordan feels unexpectedly okay that.

"I'm actually not Troubled, anymore. The Crocker thing- the reason the Rev wanted Duke- they can obliterate Troubles by killing people," Jordan explains. "Wade killed me. And fixed me."

Evi stares at her. "The Rev wanted Duke to kill Troubled people. That's what he was after. And I… damn it."

Jordan knows how she feels. "You didn't know. You did your best." She knows how useless those words are.

Evi's mouth twists. "Yeah, well. Congrats about the cure, condolences about the method. And about being quasi-related to that asshole."

Jordan slides a bit closer to her. "It's not your fault. None of this- you were handled a fucking impossible situation, and you worked it. And you fucked it up, but you went out there and you tried, and there are a lot of people who can't say that much."

Evi's quiet for a long moment. "Yeah? Well, ditto," she finally says, and Jordan supposes that's true.

"Okay, seriously, though. It's weirding me out, how similar we are," Jordan says, because she'd spent so long assuming that no one could be as fucked up as her.

Evi raises an eyebrow and nods. "I've heard that about this town, though. Any story worth telling is worth telling at least a half dozen times. So, did you sleep with Duke? It's okay if you did."

Jordan laughs, because there is no possible situation in which that is even sort of a possibility. "Nope. Nathan, though."

"Oh. I propositioned him, once, but he didn't bite. That was before I learned about the numb thing, which seems like sort of a bummer," Evi mentions casually.

"You propositioned Nathan?" Jordan repeats. A tiny and entirely inappropriate spark of jealousy burns under her skin, and she realizes that she's not sure who she's jealous of. She shoves it down.

"Yup. He responded with incredulous staring. I thought maybe it was just out of some misplaced loyalty toward Duke, so I offered to invite him… _horrified_ staring."

Jordan chuckles, able to picture it clearly. "You invited Nathan to a threesome with you and Duke? Yeah, horrified staring would have been my prediction."

Evi shrugs, grinning. "Not sure how Duke would have reacted if Nathan had gone for it, so it's probably for the best. Besides which, I then proceeded to get Nathan fired… Ah, well. So, sex with the numb guy. How'd that go?"

"The sex was mostly terrible, but in all fairness…" Jordan's insides clench, sensing that Evi's perceptive enough to read between the lines, but deciding to say it anyway, "I think my issues were a bigger problem than his."

Understanding flares in Evi's eyes, but there's not a trace of pity anywhere- just acceptance- and Jordan's guts relax. "'Kay," Evi says, with a careful casualness. "Fair enough."

"Why'd you get Nathan fired?" Jordan asks quickly, not caring particularly but totally interested in changing the subject.

Evi winces. "Bad decision. Worse reasons. I really… _really_ can't defend anything I did pretty much the entire time I was in Haven."

Jordan nods in camaraderie, then gets distracted by the sight of Claire walking into the room in absurd pajamas. Claire spots her too and walks over.

"Jordan. Hi. I heard what happened and- look, I can refer you to another therapist who specializes in-"

"I'm not staying in Haven," Jordan says firmly, not even aware that she'd made such a decision until it pops out of her mouth. It feels right. She can't stay here. She couldn't before and she certainly can't now.

Claire stops. "Wait. What?"

"I. Am. Not. Staying. In. Haven."

Claire frowns. "Jordan, you can't go anywhere else. You're legally dead. Everything you own is what you have on you right now- and even your credit cards won't work. Think about this."

"I'll figure something out. I can't stay here. I'm done," Jordan says. Claire's right (of course she is, that bitch) but Jordan's sure. She can't stay. She'll have to figure something else out.

"Jordan can come with me," Evi offers casually. "I'm a con artist. My paperwork guy owes me a huge favor anyway. No problem."

Claire pauses for a moment, taking this in, and turns back to Jordan. "If you do this, do it because you want to. Don't do it because you don't think you have other options. Don't assume she's any less… _goal-oriented_ than the others."

Fucking shrinks. Find all your buttons and use them against you. Jordan turns to Evi and interprets, "She's trying to subtly warn me that you're only doing this because you want in my pants."

"Oh. Nope. Don't get me wrong, you're about twelve kinds of hot and if you're interested I am so there, but if not, I still want to help you. Assuming I am capable of that. You're… too much like me for me to just walk away."

Jordan grins a little. "I'm willing to find out. Okay. I'm in."


	13. Wade Crocker

**Chapter contains basically everyone. Warning for casual discussions of homicide and non-sexual genital mutilation (none of which is described in the narrative). Usage of 2 sexuality &amp; gender slurs by someone who has no business using such language.**

/  
Chapter 12: Wade Crocker

Wade Crocker is, quite frankly, bored.

His father is a few feet away, worshipping a very content-looking Rev. It was funny, sort of- ever since finding out about his abilities, Wade had assumed that he was like his father. Now he knows that he's not like Simon at all. Simon is pathetic. Weak. Simon is this shaking mess who can't stop gargling the Rev's balls for long enough to really discuss their mutual hobby. Wade wants nothing to do with this.

"Good news," Duke says, wandering in with the rest of the A-Team trailing him. "We caught the person who did this. According to her, you're all mortal. We can kill you."

"Do not make the mistake of trusting the Troubled," the Rev says.

"Well. Technically, we're not. Besides which, she probably has no reason to lie to us about this," Dwight says.

"File in, file in," Duke says cheerily, but it's covering something grim. He walks over toward the cages, followed by a line of people. Some of them Wade recognizes- Jordan's there, very pointedly not looking at him, and Evi has an arm around her- Wade snorts. He'd known that Evi occasionally goes dyke (mostly, he figures, because it increases her options of people to hump) but he doubts she can handle Jordan. Or maybe he doubts Jordan can handle Evi. Whatever.

"We're discussing what we're gonna do with you," Nathan says bluntly. "Okay. Reverend Driscoll first. I just got off the phone with Hannah, who assures me that she wants nothing to do with this, does not want him back, and will cause me harm if I let him live and he causes her problems."

"My daughter has fallen into-" the Rev starts, but the pajama-shrink kicks him through the bars and he shuts up.

"Motion to kill Reverend Driscoll," Evi says.

"Seconded," adds a grouchy-looking older fellow Wade doesn't know.

"Any protests?" Nathan asks wearily.

Simon shoots to his feet. "I protest!" he yells loudly, because of course he does.

"Don't care," Nathan responds. "Motion passed. Okay. Onto Roy Crocker. Claire?"

Simon raises such a fuss that they have to stop and gag him before Claire gets on to her analysis. Wade, personally, wishes they'd gagged him ages ago.

"Roy Crocker is either a very skilled liar and a habitual killer or very easily manipulated," Claire responds. "I can't really tell which. Chief, did you get anything?"

The grumpy man who was pro-offing-Rev before speaks again. "He killed on behalf of the Guard. Sign of good faith, or somethin' like it, letting Troubled folk pick the victims. Not all violent Troubles- there was a dead mistress- he's claiming accident, and she went down the stairs, so who knows- and someone with a babbling Trouble who he says pissed off his Guard contact. He has a high body count, especially considering how early in the Trouble cycle he was killed, but I'm thinking dupe the Guard took advantage of."

Roy doesn't appear to know how to take this.

"Okay. I don't think we should just let him go," Duke replies. "Especially considering he was planning on hunting down Sarah a few hours ago."

"I won't," Roy adds helpfully. "And I won't kill people for the Guard anymore."

"He's also from 1955," Claire points out. "He needs time in a controlled environment to learn how to function here, even without the security concerns. Motion to put him in the Freddy."

Murmuring breaks out for a few seconds. It ends in assent.

"Roy, you okay with that?" Claire asks.

He looks a little upset, but nods.

"Okay," Nathan says. "Good. Simon Crocker."

Claire sighs. "Simon feels extreme guilt over his actions, which he deals with by drinking and engaging in comforting religious rhetoric. He's not truly religious- he never once mentioned God in his constant spiels- but he's burying himself in the excuse it provides. He empathizes with his victims. He is never going to stop killing, no matter what we do, because if he stops, then he has to admit he was wrong to do it in the first place. He can't deal with that level of guilt. There is no helping him anymore."

"Motion to kill him. Slowly," says the man Claire had called Chief.

"Relax, Gar," the blonde woman next to him says. "Killing him at a traditional speed will be just fine for me."

"Seconded," adds an older red-haired lady.

"Thirded?" this one's Gloria, the snarky ME.

"Okay, I think everyone's in favor," Duke says. There's something unexpectedly heavy in his voice. "'Cept maybe the Rev, but no one cares."

"If you protest, we'll listen," Nathan says quietly.

"Nope," Duke says tightly. "Take him out." Simon makes a pathetic noise behind his gag.

Nathan nods, brushes a hand against Duke's elbow, and says, "Wade Crocker."

Jordan goes tense, but still doesn't look at him. Wade grins. They are definitely gonna kill him, but he's left a mark.

"Wade's a psychopath," Claire says bluntly. "He feels no empathy, no compassion. As soon as his Trouble gave him a motivation to harm, there was no saving him. Without that Trouble, I doubt he'd be a pleasure-based serial killer. But I would be concerned about revenge or profit-based murder. And though he doesn't, sans Trouble, have the pathology of a serial killer, he does have that of a power/control rapist."

"Hey, so obviously we're killing him, but question," Evi says. "How sure are we that the killing will stick?"

"Not completely, but we'll think of a contingency plan if it doesn't work," Dwight replies.

"Okay. Well, I've got bruises and electrical burns I had before I was shot. So I was injured non-fatally, which carried, and then injured fatally, which didn't. That true for everyone?" Evi asks, businesslike, and Wade starts to get a very bad feeling. After everyone confirms, Evi says. "Okay. Motion to shoot him in the dick, then kill him." There's some laughter, but Evi looks very serious. "Seriously. Did you miss the bit about him being a probable rapist? If he's gonna come back, I'd feel better if he doesn't have any equipment."

Jordan's grinning, that cunt, but nonetheless Evi has just jumped to the top of his shit list. If he comes back, he is destroying her. Then Marcy. Then maybe Jordan, if she hasn't destroyed herself by then.

"I know this is unprofessional, but seconded," Claire says.

Wade lets out an undignified squawk. "What?" They're seriously considering this?

"Shut up or we'll gag you," Dwight says.

"Right," Nathan says. "In regards to the genital shooting, if there are any protests, I don't want to know about it. Motion passed."

Wade screams some obscenities, so they gag him efficiently and move on.


	14. Jennifer Mason

**Chapter contains basically everyone. Spoilers for late S4/early S5. I suppose technically the existence of this chapter also contains those spoilers. Oops? **

/  
Chapter 13: Jennifer Mason

Jennifer's an observer.

She prefers it when she can just fade into the wallpaper, watch what everyone else is doing. Understanding the situation always helps her feel less frightened of it (she never understands anything here). It's what made her a good journalist, before. One of the most uncomfortable things about Haven is that she's so often in the limelight.

Now, though, she's not required or expected to say a word. While the others discuss how, exactly, to kill the three they've decided to execute (funny how she would have been so horrified by this situation once) she looks at them.

Inside the cells, there is Roy Crocker and the doomed. Roy looks relieved, but shaky. The Rev and Simon look nearly identical- both given up by their children, both sentenced to death they so wholly deserve, both entirely convinced that they're in the right and are being martyred. (Jennifer so doesn't regret shooting Simon anymore.) Beside Simon is Wade- there's resemblance there too, familial (she's grateful that Duke doesn't look too much like either of them, because Wade terrifies her now). Wade, though, understands the situation exactly as it is. Wade has always understood exactly what he was doing.

Duke is struggling with it, she sees that. He's in the maudlin place he was after Wade's death- watching both a father and a brother go to the gallows this time, able to stop it, but knowing that there will be consequences. Claire's words had been damning. If allowed to survive, they will kill again. Duke has to, once again, value his chosen family at the expense of his biological one. Jennifer hopes that this will be the last time he has to do this.

Nathan is standing by Duke's side (as always, much closer than most people stand, but the situation is too serious for her to be amused by it right now). He looks… well, like crap, honestly. Jennifer knows she saw something come through the portal, something terrible, and lodge itself in Audrey. (Audrey, atypically, is not here. Jennifer takes this as a bad sign.) She wonders if she's seeing the consequences. She wonders if her presence here is the consequence.

Dwight is standing there too, beside them. He is, as always, an enormous pillar of staid strength, but even he looks worn. She'd earlier heard Dwight inquiring as to whether the man Jennifer had later identified as Garland Wuornos, Nathan's father, might want his job back. (He hadn't.)

Garland is standing with his arm around a pretty blonde woman Jennifer supposes must be Nathan's mother (the stack of pancakes she'd enthusiastically devoured earlier supported this assertion). He's busy advocating for making Simon suffer as much as possible, to the woman's amusement (not to much success, due to the woman toning him down as well as Duke's pained but silent presence). Garland's alternating between extremely (and creatively) vengeful at Simon, deliriously happy to have his wife back, and stressed about something Jennifer can't put her finger on (she assumes just Haven in general). The wife is mostly cheerful, although she occasionally goes through a facial contortion of hurt-angry-blank that Jennifer recognizes from having oft seen it on Nathan. Flanking them on either side are the red-haired woman who'd patched up Simon and Gloria. Their stance is friendly, familiar, relieved.

Claire is very studiously sticking to her job, and is doing so remarkably well for a woman in pajamas decorated with what appear to be robotic waterfowl. Every so often, though, her focus slips, a fearful look comes into her eyes, and she rubs the back of her neck. Jennifer wonders what happened to her.

Evi is becoming increasingly more fascinating. Jennifer believes her claim that her interest in Jennifer and Duke's relationship was rooted in curiosity rather than jealousy. Evi had passionately claimed that she was no kind of hero, that she was a natural villain who couldn't change… and had then promptly taken it upon herself to protect Jordan in whatever way she could. Jennifer suspects that Evi would never admit it, but she'd seen the calculating look in Evi's eyes when she'd suggested shooting Wade in the manhood. She'd seen how Evi's eyes had flicked to Jordan, checking for relief (finding it). Even if Jordan's feelings of safety hadn't motivated the suggestion, Evi had certainly been aware of them when she'd made it. Jennifer suspects that Evi can be saved yet, and she'd always believed that Jordan could make it if she could just get away from the toxicity of Haven. Jordan's tilting slightly into Evi's hands; she's letting other people wield the pitchforks. She's holding it together.

Jennifer supposes she should consider herself as well. She doesn't, in all honestly, feel dead. She's not reeling from it like some of these people obviously are, maybe because she'd had no idea it was happening at the time, maybe just because she's been dead the shortest length. Still, some of the details eat at her. Duke's hair (oh, god, what was he _thinking_? It's like a junior mullet), Nathan's weight loss, Audrey's absence all bug her, like a splinter under her skin.

She's lost time. She doesn't know what's going on. It's making her nervous. The thing she'd seen come through the Door- what had it done? What had she missed?

The anxiety kicks up at these thoughts and she breathes deeply, pushing it down under control. She'd been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder in high school, which at the time had been a relief- this thing had a name and they knew how to treat it- but since her schizophrenia scare any kind of DSM acronym frightens her. She doesn't want to be crazy, even if it's a kind of crazy she's always been. It probably didn't help that she threw out her anti-anxiety drugs with her antipsychotic. The thought of taking the drugs makes her shudder a little less than it used to. Maybe with time she can accept that she's still a little bit crazy and learn to deal with it.

Maybe Jennifer should stop assuming she has time. She is dead, after all. For all she knows, this resurrection thing has an expiration date, and even if not, this is still Haven. The apocalypse occurs about every other week. Haven is consistently terrifying, and at some point when she wasn't paying attention, it became home.

She sighs, puts her hands on her hips, and leaves her spot on the wall to go stand with the front line.

Jennifer Mason is back.


	15. Epilogue

**Features everyone; no warnings apply. Some Evi/Jordan running away together and presumably going all Bonnie and Claudia.**

/  
Epilogue:

The next few days are hectic. There are no more resurrections, and the executions are successful- Evi even takes an audio recording of the capital punishment of Wade's dick, which proceeds to become Jordan's ringtone. Still, though, figuring out lodging, clothes, and food for all the formerly dead is a complex and constant concern.

They figure out that the Trouble that did this is a new one belonging to both Duke and Nathan. It brings back significant figures that they both knew prior to their deaths. Although they are not cured, they believe that the Trouble will not recur.

Evi and Jordan stick around only long enough for Evi to work out the details by phone with her paperwork guy. Evi gets shovel talks from about five unexpected people (and Dwight, from whom it was absolutely expected). Jordan gets a semi-reluctant shovel talk from Duke. As soon as something passing as a safety net is in place, they're gone.

Garland and Annie Wuornos move back into their house, which Nathan had not sold but also had not kept up. They begin restoring it, and Garland is finally- reluctantly- convinced to become the Chief again. Despite this, Nathan is clearly in charge- this doesn't necessarily fix their relationship, but it helps, and with Annie to smooth them out, they start getting along for the first time in a long time.

Eleanor Carr tries and fails to get Julia back in Haven, but takes up the mantle of Guard leadership with Dwight. The maze birthmark, her birthright, smooths the way for Dwight with the Guard traditionalists. She is a very nice woman and a force to be reckoned with.

Jennifer rejoins the A-team, goes out and fights, makes a difference no matter how much it scares her. She begins working for and spying on Vince and Dave again. Eventually, she even stops sleeping with a night light. Even though Jennifer is usually scared of everything, she alone out of the resurrected ones is not traumatized and nervous due to having been dead.

Claire reopens her practice. Although most of her regular clients have moved on, she has no problems finding more. She makes a habit of empathy-accosting everyone she thinks needs therapy (this is, of course, virtually everyone. She is not wrong).

Nothing exactly goes back to normal, but this is Haven, so that wasn't an expectation in the first place.

Fin.


End file.
